Black Debt
by sick-atxxheart
Chapter Ten

He had failed.

That was all Severus could think about as he slumped back in the chair he had spent so many hours in, staring at the unmoving form of seventeen-year-old Harry Potter. He had failed, and the result of his failure was yet again another life was ended tragically.

Severus sighed as he rested his face in his long, thin hands. He hated those hands; he hated himself, everything about him. He couldn't save anyone, and he had never been able to. He hadn't been able to save Lily. He hadn't been able to save all the innocent people he had to repeatedly watch be tortured. He hadn't even been able to save Harry, the boy whose soul he had found to be just as broken as his own. Severus couldn't deal with the guilt. Everyone he had tried to save, anything he had ever wanted- all had been taken away from him. The world was cruel.

The world had left him all alone.

He had seen Harry fight, he truly had. Severus knew that Harry hadn't given up; the boy had just not been strong enough. The strength of the mind wasn't even enough sometimes against the pressure of memories, and it could- would- crush anyone. Severus himself had been lucky to survive his own ordeal so many years ago.

Severus was startled back into reality when he realized he was crying.

Severus Snape never cried.

He had always been strong; he had always been unbreakable. The masks and shields he had built, layer by layer, over the years had served him well and true. But this just wasn't fair. Harry had been tormented, abused, and beaten for too many years to just slip away now. His life had been just starting, the war was almost over- he had almost won- and now, with a flash of pain and a blinding scream, it was all lost.

The boy's hair was seemingly messy, as it always was, and Severus unconsciously brushed a black strand of hair away so he could see the beautiful curse that decorated his forehead. The lightning bolt scar was beautiful, it couldn't be denied by anyone- a yellow that seemed to blend into his skin, surrounded by a fine line of red that nearly vanished but could still be seen. It was a beauty, and it was a curse. It served as a reminder of all that had been lost, and what could have been won but wasn't.

Severus wished more than anything that Harry didn't have that bloody scar.

It reminded him too much of Lily, and now, seeing it, he realized he would never see that perfect shape above the piercingly green eyes ever again.

He would never see those green eyes again.

He had lost Lily, and now he had lost Harry. The two people he had sworn to protect were now gone forever, lost within their own minds- one dead by pain, one dead by a single flash of light that took her breath away, literally. It was all so tragic, and Severus couldn't keep the tears from running down his face. He had lost Lily, and now he had lost Harry.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and for once in his life Severus accepted his tears. He hadn't cried when Lily had died. He hadn't allowed himself to. His heart had yearned for it, wanted it, needed it- but he hadn't given in. He had told himself that he had made the choice, that he was the one who had turned her away, and now he was being punished for it. It had been a cruel viewpoint to take, and Severus had known it; but he had almost wanted the pain. He had almost needed it. He had needed it to be real.

Because he was scared that if he didn't feel pain, he wouldn't feel anything at all.

Harry's palms were face-up, the fingers spread delicately. Severus could see the muscle in the fingers, from Quidditch and from training. HE was one of the only four people who knew that Harry had been training in secret- preparing himself, Dark magic, Light magic, anything he could get his hands on. Dumbledore had told Severus that, and Severus had been surprised at the time, but he hadn't really cared. He had always thought that the burden of saving the world was too big for one boy, especially the son of James Potter, and that had led him to cruelty and indifference. But now Severus could see that Harry really was scared, and that was what had led him to try and do something on his own. And that foolish move- Severus could understand it, but it didn't make it any less foolish- had put Harry in this position.

But Severus couldn't forget that he had been the one to say the curse at all, and send it flying towards a helpless boy.

He had tried to forget it, but he had found he couldn't. Not for one second.

The guilt was nearly crushing him, as much as he had tried not to let it. He had sent that curse; it wasn't supposed to hit the boy, that had not been the plan, and that was Severus' main comfort. It wasn't supposed to it Harry; he hadn't meant it to, which means that it had been an innocent- well, maybe not so innocent, but unintentional all the same- act. He had told himself multiple times that if he could save Harry, his dignity would be restored as soon as he apologized to Harry, and he had been looking forward to that day when he would be at least free of some of his guilt.

But now Harry was gone, and he had no chance to apologize.

He truly had failed.

--

The darkness was slowly rising, and Harry was unsure of whether or not he wanted it to go away. He was safe here, and the pain had been lifted mercifully. But he could feel himself returning, and he couldn't help but feel scared. The pain would be returning, the torment would commence again, and he would be thrown violently into a world of torture that there was no escaping.

But he had made his decision, and he had no choice but to stick to it now.

The world was slowly collapsing in on him, and he could see the vague similarities between this and what had happened in his own mind… but then, wasn't this his own mind? Wasn't this all a fragment of his imagination? Was it a dream? Was it reality? Was it a nightmare?

He didn't know.

But soon enough, his peaceful world faded, and he was back in the bubble, pulsing and fighting for air, drowning in the blackness, screaming, fading, screaming, breaking-

--

Severus hadn't moved since he had put his face in his hands and begun to cry. The sun was slowly rising, and he realized that he had been up the whole night; but he didn't care. The boy hadn't moved- but why should he? He was dead. The dead don't move.

He rose slowly and walked about the room to try and clear his head. The room was buzzing with the smell, the feel of pain and death and misery, and he hated it. But he couldn't bring himself to leave, he just couldn't. The silence was almost haunting; he could hear every move he made- the careful footsteps on the floor, the rustling of his ever-present billowing black cloak, the sound of his breathing, and if Severus didn't know any better, he would have said he could hear his own heartbeat.

The gray walls were plain, practically without a single adornment on them; Severus had never liked to be lavish. It just reminded him of the life he had wished he could but didn't lead, and he always tried to stray away from things like that as often as possible. But the bed in the room that Harry was lying on and the chair that Severus had been sitting on were as comfortable as possible, showing rare signs of the luxury that Severus was wealthy enough to have but humble enough to not pursue.

Severus sat down again, and he couldn't help staring at the body on the bed. He had to see it for what it was; a corpse. Harry was dead.

But slowly, a hesitant thought trickled its way into his mind. How had he not thought of this before? He had a critical fault of being blinded sometimes, dead to the world because of grief. As a spy, he shouldn't have that fault. But he did, and now he regretted it as the thought rushed through his head unbidden. Is he really dead?

Raising a shaking hand, Severus placed it on Harry's chest gently, waiting for the telltale sign of either life… or death.

He felt a heartbeat.

--

Light was slowly returning, but Harry couldn't feel anything but pain. The world had collapsed, and he wanted to scream but he found he couldn't. Everything was blocked- he was blind, he was deaf, he was mute, he was senseless. He was nothing. He had nothing. His world meant nothing, his world was nothing.

--

Severus was shocked into silence when he felt that heartbeat, and he was convinced for a long, silent moment that it was just the cruel world playing yet another trick on him, preying and feeding on his weakness to make him finally fall. But when he pressed down harder, he could feel the resounding thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump that was resounding through Harry's body, faint, but still there.

He wasn't dead.

The thought hadn't quite processed in Severus' mind when a piercing scream broke the silence, echoing around the room and resounding in Severus' ears. He shuddered, hearing the similarities once again between this scream and all the screams of pain he had heard over the years. It was heartbreaking, and it was nauseating; but he had no time to think of this now.

Harry was alive; he was waking up; and he was screaming.

"Harry!" Severus screamed, as close to the boy's ear as he dared. "Harry! Wake up!"

The screams continued for a horrible few long minutes, until they suddenly ended as abruptly as they had started. Severus waited in elated silence for whatever would come next, and he didn't have to wait long.

The beautiful green eyes opened again, and Harry's fists clenched and unclenched.

Harry was alive.

But more than anything, Severus feared the glassy look that was in Harry's eyes. They didn't look real anymore. The green was tainted by black, and the sheen that covered them was almost haunting.

Harry wouldn't be the same.

--

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